Promises
by Loved-Invention
Summary: He had made a promise. A promise was something that he had always kept. But this promise, he couldn’t keep.


**Promises **

He had made a promise. A promise was something that he had always kept. Something that he did earlier - if it was time themed, or something that he did to his best ability - if it was a chore.

But this promise, he couldn't keep.

It broke her heart, tore up her insides, because she knew he would've kept it if he could have.

But he couldn't.

And it was killing her inside.

Every night, she dreamed of him.

Dreamed of the dozen roses that he gave her for their first Christmas, the two dozen he gave her for their second.

This would've been their third. _He had promised_.

But somehow, she knew. She knew she wouldn't be getting three dozen roses delivered this Christmas.

Oh God, did it kill her.

The sympathetic looks she received whenever she went out in public. The concerned glances from their friends.

The little knowing ache in her swelling stomach was what killed her most. Her little nudger/ _their_ little nudger knew. Their baby.

When he found out she was pregnant, he jumped up out of his seat and actually kissed the doctor. Then, in another second, he turned on her and started giving her the most passionate kiss she could've ever imagined. _In the doctor's office_. Next, he ran out of the office, announcing it to all of the nurses. Last came their friends.

He was full of such joy. So happy that he was going to be a father.

She felt the tears in her eyes, and slowly brushed them away. She was elected to be the host last Christmas, and, _for him_ she was going to keep that.

And then the doorbell rang.

Jason and Ella. Her little guardian angels. They were there everyday, bringing her whatever she needed.

"Mitchie." She had opened the door, pulling out her best fake smile – and then dropped it like a flash. These were their friends. She didn't have to pretend around them.

"Merry Christmas."

"It is, isn't it?" She smiled – genuinely this time- and hugged, or attempted to hug, the husband and wife in front of her. Only then did she smell the pie that Ella had made. Her stomach rumbled, and her little nudger nudged. She put a hand on her stomach, reassuring the one growing inside of her.

He loved pie.

No.

She groaned, wiping another tear and felt another hug. Jason. Big brother. One of her best friends. _His best friend_.

"It's gonna be okay." She cherished the kiss that he placed gently on her head, but then went back – longing for _his_ kiss.

"I know." _No_, she didn't.

"I'll get it." The doorbell rang again, and Ella was running before Mitchie could. Nate and Caitlyn – of course.

"Merry Christmas." Turkey, mashed potatoes, and the whole nine yards being carried in by Nate caused Mitchie to laugh. Caitlyn, the lazy-bones that she was, had her husband wrapped around her finger. Or, her mostly. Today, the newly weds chose to be appropriate.

"You need help there, Nathaniel?" She pushed her self up from her sitting position on the couch where Ella had pushed her just minutes earlier. Apparently, once you passed the eighth month, it was illegal for you to stand up and get a glass of water; let alone, go to the bathroom by yourself. _Ella_. Grrrr.

Just as persistent as _he_ was.

"You sit down, fatty." With a huff, Nate lifted the large box of food onto her counter – and Mitchie smirked. That, she was.

He had called her beautiful, though. He would've been calling her beautiful, still.

_Tears_. No.

It was a stalker. Their last date on the tour. They saw it coming. Twenty body guards couldn't stop it. It had taken him away from her.

Oh. Dear. God. She missed him.

One more kiss, one more hug, one more bouquet of a dozen roses. One more second with her husband. Her life-line. Her _best friend_.

Her baby kicked as the doorbell rang again.

Mitchie looked around at the confused faces of her peers, and this time fought her way to the door.

_Late Christmas present from mom_? Probably.

Only when she opened the door did she allow the tears to come full force. A man was there, and in his arms were roses. Three dozen. _He_ _had kept his promise_.

"There's a note to be read first, ma'am." She stifled a sob, and took the red envelope with shaky fingers. _This. Was. So. Him. _

And with even shakier fingers, she opened the envelope, unfolded the letter, and felt Ella and Caitlin come and put their arms around her.

_Mitchie,_

_If you're getting this from some weirdo-stranger and not me, my love, then the worst has probably happened. And dear God, I miss you just as much as you miss me. And trust me; I'm talking to The Man everyday, telling him to take care of you. I love you. I love that little baby you're carrying too. _

_Our baby. If it's a boy, he will probably have my sexy-good looks, so please dear, don't hand him a guitar until he's fifteen. Make sure Nate teaches him about football. Make sure Jason DOESN'T teach him about birds. Make sure that he knows how much I love him, too. _

_If it's a girl, of which I'm praying that it is, she'll have your stunningly beautiful looks. She, MY DAUGHTER, is NOT ALLOWED to date until she is forty-five. I don't' care what the terms are, she just simply isn't. But, oh Mitchie, let her know how beautiful I think she is. And when she gets married, tell her to choose the song Cinderella (the one by Steven Curtis Chapman) – in remembrance of me. _

_God, Mitchie. You. Are. Beautiful. I love you. I love YOU. I LOVE YOU. I realized it the first time I saw you. I know I was in desperate search for the "hot babe with the voice" (you, by the way), but the first time I saw you, covered in flour (AND YES, I SAW IT), I knew I would marry you. I dreamed about what our children would look like. Curly headed, chubby, babies everywhere. But I love you, Mitch. My best friend. Everything. And sweetie, you'll move on one day. I want you to, because I love you, and I don't want you to be miserable – dwelling on me forever. God knows what He's doing, even if we don't understand it. _

_But let your future husband know, just as a heads up, that you will be getting roses every Christmas for the rest of your life. Oh yes, you will. And baby, please don't forget how much I love you. _

_I love you,_

_Shane Daniel Gray._

_PS. Don't name our kid Shane, if it's a boy. Daniel is a good name. Daniel Shane. Or a girl – Danielle Michelle. Pretty. I love you, beautiful – don't forget it_.

Somehow, during the midst of her reading the letter, her friends had moved her onto the couch. She was laughing at some parts, but the sobs wouldn't stop no matter what.

The baby kicked, and her hand once again went to her stomach. _Danielle Michelle_.

Only then did she close her eyes, lean into the warmth surrounding her. Shane was hugging her, and she knew it. Her Shane, keeping his promises, forever, and ever, and ever.

* * *

**A/N:**

Okay, that was my one Christmas fic. A bit angsty, don't you think? I don't know what came over me while writing it…

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it.

Merry Christmas!!


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